A Mother’s Confession

She’s dying. Death had already made himself quite comfortable at the foot of her bed, patiently waiting like time. Still. Calm. He has a distinct scent, Death, and is always with us now. He’s the only other in my mother’s life. She has no one but us. I lift her easily in my arms to set her by the window. Death has helped me by making her light. She loves looking out the window at the big oak, older than she, that seems to be molting; she loves the way the leaves, orange and red and brown, have blown against the side of the house and won’t let me rake … Read more…

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Sickbed Confessions – By Kate Bellomy

Each wheeze and cough that came from my mother made me cringe. I ached when I looked at this once beautiful woman; a woman who fought my battles, who protected me, who showed me the ways of life, who taught me how to be a person in this world, and who was once so strong, and now was now so weak and losing her battle against cancer. I fought back the tears when I looked into her aqua eyes and wondered when they would shut for good. When I got the news of my mother’s illness, I left my life in Chicago and moved back to live out the rest … Read more…

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